Jacob's Little Tag-Along
by Yesterday's Slowness
Summary: After Bella's wedding, Jacob mends his broken heart with Seth. Slash. M for sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Not sure if I'll leave this as a one shot - let me know if you want to see more.  
**Disclaimer:** I disclaim

Jacob had watched as the love of his life had rejected him for, what he assumed would be, the final time. He had been so shocked to learn that Bella was actually going to go ahead with traditional honeymoon activities that he almost lost control at a wedding he already felt like he was crashing.

He longingly stared after the soft white dragging across the mossy ground, hand-in-hand with that bloodsucker as he pulled her to the dance floor. As he watched her face light up with a smile, staring lovingly into her husband's filthy-yellow eyes, the realisation that she would never be his came crashing into his consciousness, along with the possibility of ever being 'just friends' dashed with his final act.

_You can only blame yourself_, said a little voice in his head; but Jacob was notorious for ignoring the little voices. In his eyes, it was that bloodsuckers fault for brainwashing Bella into thinking eternal life with his disgusting family would be skipping-through-summery-meadows type of joy.

Jacob didn't both waiting around to see off the happy couple; he couldn't believe his father was standing around as the enemy took away his best friend's daughter. He couldn't believe that any of the boys (or girls) from La Push could clap along happily as Bella swirled around the dance floor, spiralling down a scum-lined drain into the afterlife.

Instead, Jacob quietly slipped out the way he came in (through the forest adjoining the Cullen's death-pit) so as to avoid the judging stares of the rest of his pack. He would have been successful in leaving without anyone knowing, had it not been for Seth's constant need to always know his whereabouts.

_Seth._ Jacob heaved a sigh as he made his way in human form through the blindingly dark forest.

For quite some time Jacob had adopted Seth as a pseudo-shadow. At first Jacob was alright with it; he kept telling himself how it was a good thing for him to act as an older brother figure for Seth, but in all honesty it was just a giant ego-boost to be admired all day, every day. Whenever they were in the same room, Seth would ask questions and talk to Jacob about pack missions, but mostly he would just watch Jacob out of the corner of his eye, do what he did, talk how he spoke, ate what he ate.

Eventually, the novelty of having a personal confidence-booster (every time Jacob began doubting himself, he'd flash Seth his guns and waited for the flattering "WOW! I wish I was as strong as you!") and Seth became somewhat annoying, however Jacob didn't have the heart to tell him to leave him.

But tonight was different, Jacob was in no mood to entertain some kid when he had problems of his own.

"Seth..." Jacob sighed; he stopped walking and turned to see Seth catching up. Being a smaller boy made Seth somewhat entertaining to watch. Where Jacob had stepped over a fallen log, Seth attempted to leap before catching his leg on the branch and face planting. And while Jacob's muscular chest ploughed through any branches out plants over hanging the path, Seth was being pushed around more than he could push.

A smile cracked over Jacob's face as he watched Seth attempting to catch up to Jacob.

"Yeah!" Seth chirped as he caught up to Jacob, trying to catch his breath as he leant against a nearby tree.

"Just stay close, we don't want you lost," laughed Jacob, realising he didn't want to take his anger out on little Seth. Although he had laughed and smiled at the younger boy's journey, Jacob wasn't close to happy, he was still fuming from the wedding. Just because he was going to let Seth follow him home didn't mean he was going to tell him war stories and assume him that he will one day be a great wolf.

Jacob lay all but passed out on the old, broken lounge in his living room. All the lights were off in the house, except for the kitchen light that Seth was using to look for a beer for Jacob.

The second they walked into the house, Seth reached for the lights but was stopped as Jacob's large hand encompassed his smaller one; the gesture was enough to say he wanted to remain in the dark. Before even kicking of his shoes, Jacob asked Seth if he'd get him a beer; Jacob was not going to sit in misery for the rest of the night and be sober at the same time.

Jacob decided he was not going to bathe in misery for the rest of the night and be sober at the same time, so before even kicking off his shoes, he asked Seth if he'd get him a beer.

"You can get one, too, if you'd like. I won't tell so long as you don't get wasted," Jacob had said.

_Guess that's another bonus of Seth's obvious worshipping – personal ego-booster and he'll do what you ask,_ Jacob thought as he flopped himself on the lounge.

"Are you sure there's beer in here?" Seth yelled from the kitchen.

"There was before we left," Jacob replied and just as the last word left his full, caramel lips he realised he'd hauled it all onto the back of his dad's truck for him to take to the wedding. "Don't worry, come back here."

"Do you know where some is?" Seth rounded the corner with face a mixture of innocent curiosity and excitement; he was clearly salivating at the thought of having a beer with his idol.

Jacob didn't answer, not trusting himself and his frustration if he opened his mouth. Seth took this as a 'no' and sat down on the ground in front of Jacob's lounge.

"Anything else I could get – is there Vodka in the house?"

"No," Jacob pondered the night of sobriety and Seth, "I..." he started by trailed off, hating the situation he was put it.

"What? What do you want me to do?" Seth asked, jumping at the chance to impress Jacob with his devotion. "I can go out and get some beer if you need? Something else?"

Jacob knew what he needed: Bella in his arms. This should be their wedding night, their honeymoon. She should be lying in his arms and he could make love to her.

But it she wasn't in his arms, nor could he make love to her. But he could pretend it was her...

Staring up at the ceiling – hooded eyes from his emotional exhaustion – Jacob analysed the cracks and chips, not looking away as he showed Seth what he wanted – what he need. Jacob raised his hand from its resting position – hanging off the lounge – and slowly unzipped his fly before lowering his hand back to the floor. Jacob remained composed, acting detached and uninterested as he waited to see how far Seth was willing to go.

Jacob sensed Seth's heartbeat drop and then pick up faster than it had been before; as the implication registered, Jacob could almost hear the war raging inside Seth's mind, he knew what was going on as he knew what he would think in the same situation.

One side utterly against the idea; not being strictly against homosexuality, but being homophobic enough to feel uncomfortable being around them – not that that had really been a frequent occurrence in La Push. While the other side dug deep into all the dark spaces in his mind to find reasons and excuses to try and convince him to go along with it, knowing that he'd never said 'no' before and didn't want to test it, lest he potentially lose his fawned after mentor of recent months.

_It's not like it makes you gay._

_It's just skin on skin really._

_Jacob needs this; you'd be doing him a favour._

Slowly, Seth adjusted himself to his knees, slipping his feet underneath to sit on them. For a second he sat there, still unsure, waiting for a sign.

Jacob remained indifferent, lifting his fallen arm to place under his head that remained exploring the white ceiling. He knew this would look like disinterest, smiling internally when Seth had tensed slightly as if he'd missed his chance.

Before rethinking it, Seth reached forward slowly, a shaking hand touching the soft black of Jacob's dress pants. The hand slid across Jacob's upper thigh before the fingertips disappeared into the opening.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jacob could see Seth momentarily tense up as his finger brushed across smooth, soft skin; it had taken Seth by surprise that Jacob hadn't been wearing anything underneath his pants. At first the silky skin had felt like satin boxers, but as Seth placed his whole hand into Jacob's pants, attempting to find the opening to the boxers, he felt the thick muscular entity radiating heat into his palm.

For the first time since walking into the house, Jacob looked at Seth, a smile spreading across his face just before he looked away. Seth could feel Jacob laughing at his innocence, but feared the butterflies would flock from his open mouth if he dared move.

"Foolish me was hoping to get lucky," Jacob confessed in a deep and heavy voice. "I've tried kissing and telling her I love her to convince her to change her mind. I thought maybe showing her passion – unconditional and... warm – would convince her this time. If I got that chance, I wasn't going to waste any time with underwear." Jacob croakily explained to the air, not caring if anyone heard, more telling himself.

Seth remained still, shocked by being pushed off in the deep end. He didn't know what he thought was going to happen – maybe he'd be fully committed by the time he found his way inside the boxers, but that time had been taken away, so he sat in silence. Jacob ignored Seth's pausing; the slight vibrations given off from his quivering hand rest on top of his package was slowly waking his cock.

Jacob shuffled slightly, working his body into the lounge to relax for the long haul. This kicked Seth into action, shaking off the fear and trying to psych himself up; in his mind he gave himself a pep talk as he slowly massaged the whole of Jacob's package, balls and all.

It was at that moment, as Seth awkwardly handled all of Jacob's goods, that Jacob realised asking an amateur would be clumsy enough, but asking a reluctant amateur would be downright horrible. But Jacob couldn't see what he had to lose: he'd either get a good hand job and release some anger from tonight or he'd get a shitty one, in which case he could ditch Seth for the lousy job. And either way, he was getting distracted from that terrible train wreck of a celebration. Win-win-win!

Jacob decided he'd move things along by removing Seth's hand (at which point Seth's face conveyed panic at what he thought was a missed opportunity) and pulling out with it his dick, leaving his balls inside the pants, hoping Seth would get the hint. The panic washed away as he realised he was still in with the chance to impress.

Picking it up gently, Seth began slowly stroking Jacob's cock; Jacob inhaled deeply the first time his head was exposed to the air and held it in as Seth continued to massage Jacob's cock. Quickly, it filled with blood and hardened in little Seth's hand which continued to roll the foreskin down and back over the head, down and back over the head.

The steady rhythm progressed as Jacob closed his eyes with his head resting back on his hands, but soon enough he realised he wasn't getting anything out of it, just a muted feeling on his cock.

Jacob sat up slightly and looked across at Seth whose eyes were fiercely focused on Jacob's pulsing member. "It's as if you've never jacked off before," Jacob stated, he added a smile to make sure he didn't chase off Seth. At this, Seth gripped Jacob a little tighter (difficult with such a small hand around such a thick cock) and began stroking harder and faster and with more vigour; it was like Seth hadn't realised jacking off was the same thing. "Yeah, that's it!" Jacob enthused, hoping to inspire the boy into bigger and better things. "A little bit of lubrication..." Jacob suggested.

Seth slowed slightly as he looked around, hoping to find something within reach. Jacob realised either Seth always had lube present, or he'd never tried this:

Jacob sat up – causing Seth to turn around to watch – and gathered as much saliva in his mouth as possible. He let it form a glob between his plump lips because letting it drop right onto the tip of his upward-pointing cock. The blob spread out over the head and ran down the shaft, leaving behind it a glossy trail over the dark pink head and the rim. Seth stroked his hand up to meet the advancing spit, letting his hand coat in the saliva as he loosely slid his hand over the now-exposed head.

Although Jacob has applied a lot of saliva, his cock had a large surface area to cover such a long and thick piece of meat. Soon the saliva was thinning out and drying up; Seth looked to Jacob who nodded his head toward his pulsing cock.

At this, Seth shuffled closer, gathering saliva just as Jacob had and positioning himself directly above the cock. He spat the glob onto the head and caught it with his stroking hand which had now been joined by the other hand – one working the top half and the other working the bottom.

Jacob was lost in the tempo, so he showed his gratitude with a reassuring pt on the back, which turned into a pat on the head, which left Jacob running his hands through the short hairs on Seth's head.

It was then Jacob had realised he wasn't with Bella, nor had he been imagining it with Bella, and he was just enjoying the sensation. He smiled, _there is hoping of forgetting her after all._

As Seth continued to pleasure Jacob, hoping it was worth the internal conflict in his mind, he continued to apply more lubricating saliva as the old batch ran dry. Each time his head moved forward, it was followed by Jacob's hand on the back of his head, slowly massaging his hair.

Jacob was falling deeper into the action; with the blood, his consciousness and sense of _anything_ was rushing to the tip of his cock where Seth twisted and stroked over the ridges of the head, causing Jacob's butt to tense and thrust into Seth's hands.

Seth leant forward to apply more lubrication for the umpteenth time when Jacob decided (out of his right mind) to up the pace. Subconsciously applying slight pressure on the back of Seth's head, Jacob tactilely persuaded Seth to take his aching cock in his mouth. With some resistance – Jacob assumed he wasn't sure what was going on or he realised and didn't want to do it, however with Jacob's persistent and superior strength made it happen – Jacob's tip brushed on Seth's which parted reluctantly, however Jacob had stopped forcing when Seth had moved down to meet the tip halfway of his own accord.

Jacob's back arched off the lounge as he sky rocketed in bliss. The warm wetness of Seth's mouth – that struggled greatly to take the girth of Jacob's beast – sent electric sparks from his tip to his spine, causing all his hair to stand on end. Although Jacob seemed confident to Seth, this was only his second blow job, the other was from Quil back at a sleepover when they were younger.

His body wasn't used to the immense pleasure and was rapidly building for release. Seth had only placed the head in his mouth before spluttering, retracting and trying again, and yet the blow job felt how fireworks look: abso-fucking-lutely amazing. All the while Seth continued to stroke the remained of the cock that didn't fit into his mouth with both hands.

Jacob kept his hand placed on the back of Seth's head, continuing to massage through his hair and assisting slightly with the downward motion. As Jacob was beginning to breathe heavily, panting to keep the juices at bay, all while Seth continued to bob up and down on his hard-to-the-point-of-exploding cock, a noise came from the front door.

"Jacob," it was Billy, "are you home?"

As the front door squeaked open, Jacob's muscles tensed out of shock, causing his cock to erupt its juices. Lost in the mental black out, Jacob's hand grab a fist full of hair and forced Seth's already-overextended mouth an inch and a half lower on his cock. Spluttering and flapping about, Seth tried to remain quiet, hoping beyond hope that Billy couldn't see into the darkened room where his son's spunk seeped from the corners of one of his pack member's mouth a mere six meters away.

The strange mixture of fright and orgasm ebbed from Jacob's system; his muscles quickly relaxed and his let go of Seth's head. Seth silently removed his mouth from Jacob's meat; any cum that wasn't directly injected into his stomach had fallen out onto the crotch of Jacob's dress pants, along with copious amount of saliva that Seth's body produced in an attempt to cough up the invading specimen in his mouth.

Seth quickly sat up from Jacob's lap who also prayed the darkness was enough of a cover to shield what he now realised was a stupid idea. Jacob sneakily tucked his cock back into his pants, ignoring the cum pools on his pants for the time being, and waited for his father's react to his response, "yeah, I'm home."

Although it had been mere seconds since Billy had knocked on the door – everything happening so fast – Jacob knew that his father realised what had transpired.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been three days. Three whole days since Jacob had extracted a real response from his father. The most he'd heard from his father were three pathetic words – "maybe you should" – in response to Jacob's suggestion that he spend a few nights a Quil's.

Jacob had dusted Seth off, awkwardly lifting him from his inferior position on the ground and escorted him to the door – after which he hadn't seen Seth since – praying that his father hadn't realised, but he knew. Jacob knew that his father knew even before his father realised what was going on. It was obvious in the silence; no 'hello' or 'good night'. Instead, Billy had immediately wheeled to his room, closed the door and not made a noise until the following morning where he clattered about before leaving early in the morning before Jacob awoke. However, Jacob was awake, and had heard his father's silent and untraceable departure; not even a note was left to detail his plans.

Jacob had stressed the whole day, wondering what he was going to say to his father, how he could explain that it wasn't what it looked like – unless it looked like his son was absolutely straight and used a young pack member to relieve himself in a state of duress and this had nothing to do with anything outside of pure physical release, in which case it was exactly what it had looked like. He got angry at himself for putting himself in this position: there was no way to explain to his father what had happened without bringing up the fact that it had happened, however if he left it and hoped his father hadn't realised then there was always the chance he would have the wrong idea forever.

But Jacob never got the chance. After deciding to leave what path to take to the very last second, his father had rolled into the house and into his bedroom before Jacob could even jump of his bed and ask about his day.

The disinterested, emotionless answers and lack of conversation lead Jacob to believe there was no way he could explain his way out of this; his father definitely knew, and apparently didn't want excuses about it. Whether Billy was angry – or worse still, disgusted – at Jacob using Seth in this way, or if it was because it was a male in general, Jacob was not sure, but as he unpacked dropped his overnight bag onto the pull-out in Quil's room he decided he wasn't going to endeavour to find out.

"If you're just popping in for a friendly sleepover, why do you look so bummed?" Quil asked in a mocking way, but the concern was still there, hidden behind his hard demeanour.

"I don't want to talk about it," Jacob replied, wishing – with all the birthday candles from all the cakes – that he would just drop it. It took a special kind of someone to be compassionate enough to sympathise with another human. It took another special kind of someone to be able to pick up on body language and tone of voice and realise when something was supposed to be left alone. Unfortunately, Quil was neither of these people.

"But seriously, did you punch the wall again? Or was it a window this time?" Quil started laughing before asking, "Or did you phase in that tiny bedroom of yours?" His laughter echoed through his room – one much larger than Jacob's – and through the halls to a voice that belonged to neither of Quil's parents.

"I hope you're not braiding each other's hair without me," Embry laughed.

_Thank heavens!_ Jacob thought to himself. Besides the fact that Embry embodied both compassionate-sympathiser and appropriately-timed-conversation-dropper, he would also provide as a perfect distraction from Quil's unwavering determination; once he was curious, he wouldn't stop until he knew everything.

As Jacob hugged Embry – in a manly way, Jacob reminded himself – in greeting, Quil explained, "Oh and I invited Embry over; if we're doing this, we're doing it right!"

"Doing what right?" Jacob inquired apprehensively.

"Getting pissed out of our brains to forget that whor-" Quil stopped, before retrying, "I mean Bella and her bastard of a husband; that's why your here right?"

Jacob wondered if all the wax and flames from his sponges and muds and ice cream cakes over the years had made this perfect excuse for him, or if he'd wasted a life-time accumulative wish on a problem that already had a solution. "I still don't want to talk about it." This time Jacob made out as if he'd being avoiding thinking about Bella the whole time; it was then he realised that avoiding thinking about her was what got him into this mess into the first place.

"Yeah, you just disappeared on us. I was really worried for you," Embry piped up as he threw his bag onto Quil's bed.

"What do you think you're doing?" Quil laughed, not realising the seriousness of Embry's bag placement.

"Um, I'm not spooning with Jacob..."

"And you think I am?" Quil raised an eye brow to drive his point forward.

"You two look perfect for each other. Stand side by side so I can get a better image," Embry laughed.

"Hey, what's wrong with sleeping with me?" Jacob placed his hand to his wounded heart.

"You're big enough as it is and then you spread out like no one else is there, and you stink," Embry explained, counting on his fingers, "and you roll around. Seriously, take your pick."

"Who said I wanted to sleep with either of _you_ anyway?!" Jacob laughed, "I'm having the pull-out to myself and you two can share pillow talk on Quil's bed.

"I'm not sleeping with him either; he snores like gravel in a cement mixer," Embry's eyes widened at the shock of the suggestion, "he shakes the whole bed. I'd prefer to sleep with Jacob."

"Hey, now," Quil piped up, feigning taking offence, "no one said you were a saint either, little one." Quil place his large palm on the slightly shorter, slightly skinner of the three.

"Oh yeah?" Embry challenged, knowing he slept like a perfectly-volumed, perfectly-moveable, perfectly-scented angel. And as silence fell over the three of them – Jacob and Quil racked their brains, searching through all the memories of Embry sleeping like a baby at previously get-togethers for birthdays and long weekends – Quil decided the decision was made:

Picking up Embry's bag and throwing it next to Jacob's, he explained, "I don't know why we're arguing about this, it's my room." And with that, it was settled.

...

One would assume that 'getting pissed to forget the whore' would include vast quantities of alcohol and movies to watch. Instead it involved the lightweight (Embry) throwing up most of the alcohol within an hour and a half, resulting in Jacob and Quil walking it off with him, leaving the alcohol for fresh air and manly conversation topics.

Eventually, once methods of vampire killing were all expended and Embry seemed almost sober again, they found themselves heading back. Having walked almost the entire perimeter of La Push, they stumbled into bed as soon as they got home, exhausted by the late hour and physically exerting forgetting technique – _physically exerting, looks like both forgetting techniques have something in common._

...

She was cold in his arms. Jacob was disgusted at himself that he was willing to endanger her life if it meant he could be with her before the vampires came and took her back. He had no idea how Bella had ended up in his arms, but she was freezing (to a normal human) and she was breathing deeply – _she is so ready,_ Jacob thought to himself.

She was clearly sick but Jacob wanted her so bad, he felt sick knowing he only wanted her body, her stone cold body, and was thinking of her as 'ready' and 'not wet enough'. As he set her down on the tiny patched up bed in his tiny crumbling room, he looked down into her serene face, almost sleeping but her chest rose and fell like it couldn't get enough aim.

Jacob tried to drive away his animalistic urges with rational thinking; her skin was cold and her face was drained of blood, she clearly was having difficulty breathing. He tried to help, but his amateur attempts at resuscitation turned into passionate kiss. Trying to fight it only made him kiss harder. He stopped pumping her heat with his hands and started massaging her chest through her shirt.

As he checked for the final time, making sure she was ready – running his hand down her chest and stomach and felt the wetness that remained cold – he looked into her eyes, noticing for the first time the golden liquid that swirled behind the lenses.

And it sickened him to the core, that she had changed, that _they_ had changed her, and here he thought about saving her from some sickness – although he made no movement to actually help. But the sickest thing of all – that made his stomach drop and his heart ache and tears pool on his lower eye lids – was that before he knew it, his was mixing the warmth emanating from his cockhead with the cooling slickness she provided for her filthy, bloodsucking husband to slide in and slide out daily, changing her once perfect body into his own personal dumping space.

Jacob continued to slide the full length of his meat – from tip to base – in and out of her as she writhed in – what Jacob hoped was – immense pleasure. All the while the images of Bella before this change that he tried to use to mask what she had become were being over powered by some stronger voice in his mind, telling him that she was using him – like she always had; that he could be grinding forever and never get closer than he was to her than he was in that moment; that the only explanation for a dead person being able to provide such lubrication was that at this moment Jacob's cock was covered – knob and balls – in the juice provided by Edward as a daily reminder that Bella was eternally his.

"Hey," she whispered, still not looking at him, but placing her hands either side of his face, reassuring him with her touch. "Jacob?" She whispered, questioning whether that was him, or questioning what he was doing.

And slowly she was pulling away. Jacob's cock ached as it was drawn from her and she drifted away, darkness consuming her. And him, for that matter. Reaching forward, trying to hold onto something – anything – as they were both cloaked in darkness, he pulled her into his chest. And suddenly she was warm against his chest. As he continued to satisfy himself by grinding against her, he wished his cock was now in the wet hole that he had pleasured himself with, now knowing that it was warm.

She was still whispering, "Jacob," she said, grabbing his hand and shaking him, "Jake, are you dreaming?" It was the absurdity of her question that hazily brought him to the realisation that the whole situation was absurd, causing him to awaken in a dark room that wasn't his own, holding a body (that was clearly not Bella's) against his own – their back to his chest, his ragged breath on the back of their neck, his cock pressed up against their lower back.

"EMB-" Jacob began, starting to leap back in surprise, in embarrassment, in shock. However was interrupted by Embry's reassuring 'shh'.

Embry held onto the arm wrapped around his torso as Jacob's first reaction was to jump away, but when Jacob stayed, spooning into Embry's back, he let go, leaving Jacob to hold on as he had when he was dreaming. In the dark, Jacob felt movement and flinched in surprise as he felt a hand feeling about the opening of the cotton boxers he was sleeping in. Soon Embry had found the opening through which he thread his hand upon undoing the button, where he pulled Jacob's severely hard cock through.

His aching blue balls prevented him from questioning Embry's actions, and if it weren't for the state of his erection (almost bursting point) that had stopped his question, then it would be the cloudiness of his midnight brain. All the while, Jacob's heaving breaths slowed gradually as he had stopped the physically demanding action of grinding through shorts and started trying to understand what Embry was doing through touch, not sight.

He felt Embry's hand – small than Quil's and his own, with long fingers – give his cock a gentle squeeze before pulling back the skin on his head. His body was tense, but he tensed further when Embry let go; his cock ached when left alone. There was more movement in front of him – all while Embry's topless body was pressed into Jacob's own topless body – before Embry's hand returned. The saliva carried in the palm of his hand was rubbed onto the cockhead, lathering it and causing the tension to drop in his shoulders and neck as he sighed into Embry's hair that now shared his pillow, so close he could smell the sea-salt and sweat.

But Jacob froze momentarily, then pulled back, Embry had directed his cock to his-

"No, shh," Embry whispered, using his available hand to rub Jacob's hugging arm. He continued to reassure Jacob in this way – slowly and gently rubbing Jacob's muscular forearm – as he applied more saliva and tried once again to execute his plan.

Apprehensively at first, Jacob shuffled slowly forward, following his cock in the slippery hand as Embry pulled on it slowly, but firmly. Embry knew what Jacob was thinking – and he didn't want to get fucked by Jacob either... yet – so he whispered "just wait" when he was close to his mark and felt Jacob tense again. But Jacob trusted him, moving forward ever so slightly, where he felt Embry position the tip – and soon the whole shaft – in the gap between his legs. Letting go, Embry's hand retuned to holding onto Jacob's arm that held onto his body.

For a second they lay their together, Embry encircled by Jacob's arms and Jacob's cock encircled by Embry's thighs. And then Jacob started.

He was already close due to the dream-induced thrusting, so he felt his cock stiffen to bursting hardness a soon as he began thrusting between Embry's legs. He pulled back, feeling his saliva-lubed knob caress the insides of Embry's thighs where the short black hairs tickled his shaft. When the tip was at exposing point, he would quietly, but passionately, thrust back into Embry's pseudo-pussy; warmer than what he could have dreamed of, wet from the spit, and his head was caressed at the end of his long thrust by the balls that hung over the other side. Occasionally the balls were replaced with Embry's hand which met his tip on the other side of his legs with more saliva-lube, allowing him to continue getting lost in the thrusting right when he started find his way back to the room with all the leg hairs that were sticking to his head.

Jacob began panting heavily, breathing deeply the natural-scented hair in front of him, loving the warmth surrounding his cock, pressed into his chest, rubbing his arms. He felt – for the last time – Embry's hand reapply lube, sending him into climax. He continued to thrust as his balls tensed and his cock stiffened, the cum building at the base of his cock, ready for ejection. And then he was shooting the warm cum from his meat, it oozed over Embry's thighs and coated his balls as Jacob continued to thrust shallowly into Embry's legs, massage just the head of his cock as he hovered above the world on his orgasm.

As he felt himself falling back down, he braced himself for the crash landing, grabbing hold of Embry and pulling him tight against his chest, breathing in a lung full of his hair. And then he relaxed – still entwined with Embry – as he fell asleep immediately.

**AN** While writing the first chapter, I thought about how the most difficult part of my writing process is finding a believable pathway between the context of the story and the sexual encounters – I don't like to rest on the all-too-easy "oh, the straight person in this story just so happens to realise he's gay at the exact point he is faced with the prospect of male-male sex" because it ruins the point of the majority of my stories: that is, a straight character getting it on with a gay (or another straight) character.

I often find myself disappointed with a Fanfic I read when the integrity of the story – the premise of the sexual event – is sacrificed for the sex itself. And so I do sympathetically apologise if you read any of my stories and find yourself unhappy with the characters and/or events based on the sex. Believe me, I am aware of when I do 'that what I hate' in my own stories (often late at night when my tired brain can't be bothered to formulate a guise under which a straight man can have sex with another man for a normal reason), however, also believe me when I tell you that I only ever resort to it when I've worked myself into a tight corner and can't find my way out.

So that is a little piece of my thoughts, why not share yours?


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